Home
by Crimson Falcons
Summary: Post-war. Because retribution and redemption go hand in hand- in which Uchiha Sasuke understands what made him fall in love with his wife.
1. a

**Standard disclaimer applies: I don't own Naruto, blah blah blah. You all know the drill.**

This is a result of being bombarded with heart-wrenching feels and being canon-ised. I'm still getting over the fact that they got married. So um, yea.

**Prompt: Without you, by Ashes Remain.**

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><p><strong>a.<strong>

He starts to see her for what she is, for who she has become.

It's hard, sometimes, because when he closes his eyes he sees her crying, eyes squeezed shut in pain. But not always; sometimes he sees her smile, and her laugh tinkles in his ears and his fingers seem to relax by the mere sound that echoes in his mind. He likes it better this way; he likes the peace that floods him.

She's still bright, rose and moss all mixed into one. Her happiness overlaps his own and it confuses him, how she simply gives without asking for anything in return. But he tries to show her what he means, what he _feels_, as best as he can in the only way he knows, and somehow she understands him the way she understands the lines on his palm, the bruises on his body and the scars on his soul.

Some days he looks at her when she's washing the dishes, the sleeves of her red shirt pushed up and arms buried elbow deep in soap water, or when she's bent over the flower bed in their new home, knees folded underneath her, pink hair flattened against her neck, and it makes something in his chest flutter when she turns to see him there and smiles, eyes crinkling around the corners like they always do.

He has to blink and suck the air deep inside his lungs to not collapse in front of her when she does that. And he finds it strange how his feet always lead him to where she is, in daybreak and in darkness, to find sanctuary in her kind words and soft whispers.

So when she curls into him for warmth on winter nights, he holds her tight and allows himself to be weakened, to be sheltered from the nightmares that have plagued him for as long as he can remember. His face finds its way to her shoulder where her shirt hangs loose, her pale skin cool against his clammy forehead, pink hair tickling his cheeks, and he sighs, breathing in her scent and letting it engulf him in a cocoon.

"You okay, Sasuke-kun?" her voice is muffled and deep, eyes clouded with sleep, the green pigment in them dark and moist, and he almost laughs to himself at how uncannily perceptive she can be.

"Go back to sleep."

She mumbles something incoherent, adjusts herself in his arms, and lays her face right on his chest, so close to his heart that he knows she can hear it.

"You too, Sasuke-kun."

He closes his eyes then and focuses on the sound of her breathing. He knows that he still has a long way to go and fractured bonds to rebuild but maybe, just maybe, his journey won't be as hard as he had thought it to be.

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><p>My sisters say this nearly made them cry. Is it true, because I'd like to know.<p>

Criticism is always welcomed. Drop by a review to tell me what you think.


	2. b

**Prompt: If you see Kay, by The Script.**

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><p><strong>b.<strong>

"Ne Sasuke-kun, what do you think?"

Perched on the high stool, she stands with a large paint brush in one hand and a plastic bucket in the other. There's a big chunk of wallpaper pooled by her ankles, splattered with hues of crème, robin-blue and pink, but the walls are bare and she has her eyebrows scrunched up in indecision, lips plucked up into a pout.

For a minute he just stares at her, eyes unblinking, and he thinks- he's almost sure he just _heard_ his mother's voice again. And suddenly he's pulled deep within his memories again, those colored with sunlight and laughter, the story of a little boy who was adored by his ka-san and loved unconditionally by his brother. They flicker in his eyes like a film, images exploding in his corneas like tiny bursts of lightning that flash a blinding white in the darkness; they leave him feeling hollow, and he's so tempted to flee like he always does, black shirt sashaying in his wake.

_But._

"Sasuke-kun?"

Her fingers dangle in the space close to his face, uncertain, hesitant. He closes his eyes and leans into her hand.

"Green," he whispers as he looks at her, and she tilts her head a little to the side in confusion, so he clears his throat and clarifies.

"For the walls."

She turns and squints her eyes, scrutinizing, the wheels in her head spinning like clockwork. Then suddenly she smiles and looks up at him, emerald eyes grinning.

"I guess that could work."

She's begins to talk animatedly, her features instantly brightened by the prospects of the future, but he can't hear her anymore, can't see her anymore; all he feels is the scorching heat of his guilt, all encompassing and suffocating, and he has to clutch the door-frame to keep his face straight.

And when lucidity returns, it returns like a punch, a million sounds blaring in his ears as if a television had been flipped to a maximum value. She's still standing there, pink lips pulled into a large smile, eyes big and bright as they have always been since the time they began trying to understand themselves and the world they had been thrust into. And he realizes he admires her endurance, how she takes it all in stride, all the pain, the suffering; she still laughs, while he thinks he doesn't even remember how to anymore.

But when she suddenly twirls on her feet and stands on her toes to peck him on the cheek, he blinks out of whatever madness was swirling in his mind and looks at her, really looks at her like he's been trying to ever since the war ended and she started healing his wounds, and thinks: _why_?

"Lunch?" there's no tremble in her voice, no gaping hole in the void that's stares back at him, unabashed. He lets her guide him through their house like she had guided him through the tunnel of insanity he had submerged himself in for more than a decade of his life, and he might not have crossed it all yet, but he's not scared. Because this time he knows he's not alone. The hand clasped in his attests to that fact.

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><p>It's hard keeping Sasuke in character and writing such a major fluff thing. Seriously.<p>

Review?


	3. c

A little insight into his head.

**Prompt: Nightcall, by London Grammar.**

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><p><strong>c.<strong>

She finds him standing in the rubble of what was his childhood. The history of his clan, once so majestic, burned to ashes, mixed with the debris of broken houses and cracked walls. He can still smell the smoke lingering in the air, and the wet grass reflect rainbows in the sky, remnants of morning dew clinging to long green blades.

They move to the cemetery next, where tombstones cast long shadows across dead grass. He closes his eyes and the blood is there again, swirling around in his consciousness, making his breath clog in his lungs. He can feel his palms turning cold and clammy, and as the wind picks up again, he hears their screams ringing in his ears, begging for release.

Obito had said that his brother had been ready to kill everyone- their parents, their relatives, the woman he loved- but he couldn't bring himself to end the life of a mere seven year old boy who would one day lay rest to his anguished soul. But Sasuke still fails to see any of that; all he sees is the burden his brother had to shoulder all his life, the spilt blood he had to stomach. Itachi was a boy of peace, and he had risked _everything_ to prevent his city from bathing in carnage, even if it meant exterminating his own kind; Sasuke knows he would have never been able to do what his brother had done all those years ago.

Something itches the corners of his eyelids, scalding hot and burning. He looks up the towards the graying sky, blinks at the clouds gathering overhead, and wonders if the rain will wash it all away this time.

She comes to stand in line with him, in front of thousands of chipped graves where his family lies, a blot of colour in a mass of inky black and fading gray, and he wonders what they must be thinking now, seeing her standing by his side, a ray of spring in a black and white world. He knows his mother would have liked her kindness, his brother would have admired her honesty, and perhaps his father would have acknowledged her courage and skill, her determination and her strength.

Bending to her knees, she clasps her hands, closes her eyes and sends a short prayer while he watches her from under hooded eyes and jaded irises. Her dark lashes fan over her cheeks, tangling at the ends as they curve upwards. When she stands, she has to cranes her neck to look up at him.

"It's over," her breath floats between them as white mist, mingling with the smell of an approaching storm. "Let's go home."

He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket and takes a deep breath in and let's it rest there till he can feel the scent of his people seeping into his cells. The first drop of rain lands on his nose, splashing into his eyes and down his jaw, and he knows it's time to leave. On the other side of the hill, the Hokage mountain looks down on Konoha, the faces of their ancestry etched in stone, and beyond it stand the structures of the future.

The city his brother had died protecting had already begun healing from the aftermath of the calamity it had seen. If Itachi had been here to see it, Sasuke knows he would have been proud.

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><p>A special thanks to all those who liked this story, and the reviews are really encouraging.<p>

Plus I got more than two thousand views in three days, _yikes!_


	4. d

SATs are killing me. A'level is killing me.

I need a vacation, badly. Cue the tears.

**Prompt: Dark on me, by Starset**

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><p><strong>d.<strong>

She's no longer the mumbling mess she used to be, he realizes, no more insecure in her abilities. Her hands are warm when they heal, soothing the nerves behind his eyes, and he feels it flow through him, her chakra, strong and confident and knowing, moving to places he will never see, fixing what's broken.

He stares at her when she closes her eyes and focuses, green light illuminating her features, drenching them in halo, and it feels so surreal, this form of intimacy they share under the blanket of uninterrupted darkness. Blood pools down his calf and falls to the wooden floor, its pitter patter the only sound in the blank silence. He clamps down on the shallow cut on his thigh and holds it down, ignoring the warmth of his blood underneath his fingertips and how it throbs, waves of pain traveling in pulses to his spine where they all gathers again and burst in a flash of blinding light that explode in his temples.

She pauses and the light dissipates from under her hands. They're engulfed in the darkness again.

"That should hold it while I mend your leg," her voice resounds from somewhere in the void, low and soft, and he can almost picture her looking up at him from under her lashes, green eyes feral and neon-bright. He nods into the darkness and hears the rustle of her clothes as she moves higher on her folded legs, fingers searching for his wounds in the inky blankness. His bloody hand moves on its own accord and guides her to the gash on his limb. The green glow returns, her mop of cropped pink hair right under his nose, and he thinks of what's inside there; her brain, all those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast, frantic centipedes. Like a child, he sometimes pictures opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts, because he hates to admit that he doesn't know what goes around in there anymore. He hates the fact that he can't predict her movements, or understand what pulls her in when she's staring blankly outside the kitchen window- he_ hates_ that he doesn't know her anymore. Detests it.

Something clogs in his throat and he looks away from her and focuses on the moving shadows on the walls that dance with the moonlight. The skin on his leg is burning, the nerves behind his eyes are burning; even the darkness seems blurry to him now.

She's looking up at him now- he can feel the weight of her stare, curious, questioning.

"Does your arm still hurt, Sasuke-kun?"

It makes him clench his jaw, and he's tempted to lie and keep up the facade that's been prancing around their room like a fat pink elephant, but he's tired; every cell in his body aches, every pore cries in pain, and he just wants to fall asleep and never wake up again.

So when she leans up to heal his eyes again, his head falls down to its place on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, nestled in the warmth that relieves the pressure from his ocular nerves, and nods lightly, releasing a shuddering breath against the base of her ear. He feels her tremble beneath him, feels the energy course through him when her hands- _her surgical hands that give life while his always seem to take it away_- find the burn on his shoulder and work on it, soothing the scalded skin that itched and-

_Why?_

No sound infiltrates the all-encompassing ebony veil. He closes his eyes and tries to stay awake.

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><p>Yes, he does not know her anymore because of the years he spent away. No, he is not a mind-reader, so he's obviously in doubt. And by arm she means the prosthetic he will get soon (I hope).<p>

Sometimes I want to rip these two into smithereens and build them both again from scratch, just so they're no longer simply characters on paper.

And a big thank you to all those who reviewed and added **Home** to their favourite's list. I can't PM anyone because I have no time to breathe these days, neither at home or at school (SOMANYFATBOOKS and OHMYGODTHEHORROR), and any free period I do have is spent writing this, hunched over the screen of my ancient S1 like a druggie. Not a pretty picture, trust me (_shudders_).

ANYWAY, do leave a review to tell me what you think.


	5. e

**Busy week. But on a brighter note, I'm finally nineteen!**

**Gotta love birthday months.**

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><p><strong>e<strong>

He realizes he's always been running, chasing one thing after the other, neglecting what mattered more; it's always been a subject of priorities for him, and somehow he always chose the wrong ones.

He tells himself that he'll stay for good this time. That he'll make it work.

Up ahead the village gates rise over the tree line, illuminated against the harsh glare of the descending sun, red as the crimson sky above them. He passes through them without pausing and immediately expands his senses to find her and he pins it, her chakra signal, glowing green and pink and steady, merging shyly with his own, almost as if calling out to him.

They're sitting in Ichiraku, sipping on broth and the warmth that engulfs them. He can hear Naruto's boisterous laughter blocks away, rising an octave over every other sound the village makes as it closes itself for the day, can feel Kakashi's calm inundate the streets as he approaches the ramen shop, but most of all he can sense her presence, tranquil as the morning light he wakes up to during his travels, and his muscles loosen as the feel of belonging floods him, like as if all that hardcore tension has finally left him and he can be in peace again. His footsteps are silent when he lands, his cloak floating in the cold evening air, and for a moment he's almost excited to be back and-

What he sees makes him see red.

She laughing brighter than he's seen her laugh for a while now, grinning to a man with choppy brown hair and curious eyes. Kakashi looks at him from the corner of his eye, the glint in them warning him to reign his rage. But he doesn't care, not when there is some leeching washed out shinobi sitting so close to her.

"Bastard," Naruto pulls him down next to himself at the end of the table, fingers digging into his flesh to stop him from doing something he knows he will not regret later, "so glad you could make it."

She looks up at him them, mouth slacking around the corners with something he doesn't understand, fingers curling around her bowl almost hesitantly and he knows she's surprised because he has always returned to her in the shadow of the night while she slept, his arm curling around her form to pull her in towards him, to know he's alive and there and not dreaming.

And, he reflects bitterly, always left her the same way too.

He's in his seat before she can get up to greet him, and as he slides on the barstool he can feel her eyes on him, those green irises cat-like under the glow of the lanterns that line the walls. A bowl is placed in front him, steam condensing in front of his face as he folds his hands and hides his grimace when the noise flows through his ears again. And he's suddenly fighting the urge to grab her and fist his hands into her clothes and smell the scent of his skin, to hold her close as she runs her fingers through his hair and curls her hands by the base of his neck and plants her cheek on his forehead to let him know that she won't ever let to, that she'll always be there when he comes back because she's his home now, his beacon to guide him through the terrors of his past and the uncertainty of his future.

The tense silence that follows is suffocating, and Sasuke has to flex his hands to stop them from trembling in fatigue. Naruto glances at him with a shrewd perception that makes the irritation bubble in his throat. He tries to quell his anger by pressing his fingertips to the scalding ceramic bowl.

"Sakura-san, I'm still in love with you."

There are things that happened simultaneously, he reflects later, events that occurred in the same time frame. The chaos that follows is instant: Naruto chokes on his noodles, but Sasuke barely sees that, barely sees Kakashi moving to stop him, barely sees the unnamed shinobi look up at him beyond her pink head and gulp in fear and back up in terror before the sound of a thousand chirping birds screech in his ears and the electricity pulses through his veins, charging his cells and burning his thoughts to a single discernible voice that echoes in his cranium like a mantra.

But before he can melt the skin off his face he sees her, those cat-like eyes widening in horror and dread as he plunges his hand so close to her shoulder that he can feel the heat of her skin prick the flesh of his undamaged hand and see the blue light flickering in the translucent green of her irises; they look so strangely beautiful, the colors dissolving into one another, that for a moment he forgets everything and just stares, at that mesh of neon blurs and memory they elect.

There's a loud blast, a crater in the earth near the border of Fire and Rain. He scoffs, wringing his fist to dust off the debris that has gathered between his knuckles and begins to look for the closest inn he can find. He hopes he's tired enough to not dream of lightning strike down on open emerald fields.

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><p>So it's longer than the previous ones. That should about compensate for being a week late.<p>

Review.


	6. f

**Another one out in the same week. Wohoo.**

**Prompt: Unknown soldier, by Breaking Benjamin.**

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><p><strong>f.<strong>

Sometimes he thinks this is what he deserves: to be alone, where he can't wreak havoc to everything in his path. Looking back, it seems like destruction was the only thing he was capable of.

But he's human, and he's tired of being what he has always been, filled to the brim with anger and a blinding rage that consumed him, constantly looking for something to crash and burn and destroy. The guilt that accompanies those memories is crushing, at times down-right suffocating, and in those moments, in those little lapses where his pride is in ashes and his iron-will is reduced to a husk, he thinks he isn't worthy of the redemption, isn't worthy of their forgiveness. Isn't worthy of her.

That's how Naruto finds him, silently drowning in his own desperation. Sleets of rain pound on the wooden floor from the open window, akin to gunshots ricocheting in the dark, and the thin white curtains flutter in a mad frenzy and Sasuke thinks it's finally over, that the cold he feels under his palm isn't that of his dingy room but the icy chasms of hells, altered to an Arctic cold meant only for him because even the devil knew fire wouldn't work for someone whose rage had burned brighter than any flame.

Naruto's shoes squeak when he moves. Sasuke wonders why he came to a place like this, where there's nothing to see or hear or smell but the rain and the fog that follows it.

"You need to come back," Naruto's deep voice is shadowed by the thunder that splits the sky with a loud roar and when lightning strikes, the shadows on his face get darker. Ominous.

Nothing beyond the abysmal silence, save for the cracking thunder and pounding rain. Sasuke pushes the back of his hand against his left eye. The pain in his arm worsens.

"She doesn't hate you, you know," there's a brief shuffle of clothes, wet fabric sloshing on the surface, and then they're sitting together like they did all those years ago, backs pushed against the wall and eyes angled to the ceiling above. "She just misses you."

"Why?" the words that come out of his mouth are resigned, ones that leave his lips dry and his throat parched. Naruto shrugs beside him.

"Ask her yourself."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting the cold air invade his lungs and leave icy wisps in its wake. They stay like that till the rain stops pouring and the thunder goes silent, just two men who didn't know what to do with themselves or the world they lived in, boys who had been deprived of the love and kindness they had deserved but never gotten. Until now.

"Just so you know, I punched that asshole for you," Naruto finally says, pushing himself off the ground, a cheeky grin pulling the side of his lips. Sasuke finds himself smirking to that. "You can thank me for that when you come home."

"I'll try not to kick your ass the next time we spar. That should make us even,"

Naruto pretends to bristle at the insult, "Oh yeah, I'd like to see you try, butter fingers."

"Twinkle-toes."

"Emo-princess."

"Real original," Sasuke rolls his eyes, but he's grateful, more than he'd ever admit. Naruto shrugs into his nin-pack again, eyes glowing a bright yellow after a blink, and walks over to the window.

"It's been eight years, Sasuke. She's changed. We all have." Naruto looks back at him and Sasuke wonders where that annoying kid with the blonde hair and big mouth from all those years ago vanished to. "Next time, try to stay longer. At least so you can get to know her better."

Sasuke has no answer for that. Outside, the fog rolls in from the bay, engulfing everything in its path and Naruto jumps into it, a yellow flash of light in the void. He watches him cross the border and decides its time he followed. Seven months is a long time away from home.

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><p><strong>A shout for all those who've reviewed and liked Home: I love you all. Your feedback really keeps me going.<strong>

**As always, don't forget to tell me what you think. Criticism, good and bad, is always welcomed.**


	7. g

A moment of silence for the people who lost their lives in the Peshawar attack.

**Prompt: Heroes, by Imagine Dragons.**

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><p>There is a chill permeating the air, the kind that settles in his bones and refuses to subside. A vague fog rises in the forest, aimless and lost, and he pushes past it, a lone soldier in the wilderness.<p>

He tries not to think of the horror etched on her face the last time he had seen her, so close to the electricity that flecked off his fingertips, the sound of her shuddered gasp drowned under the call of a thousand chirping birds. He tries not to think of the laughter that had preceded his arrival, or how she had smiled at everything but him. And it brings an onslaught of doubts and self-depreciating thoughts that chase one another like a pack of rabid dogs in his mind, and they makes it so hard to keep pushing one foot after the other and not run in the opposite direction.

He shakes his head, like as if the action itself would wipe his mind clean, and fingers the hilt of his kusanagi, thinking of what to say, knowing that whatever comes out of his mouth, it will never be enough.

Sometimes Sasuke thinks he's swimming in the words, drowning in them. But they desert him when he needs them most.

The tree line parts to give way to the entrance to the village. Clouds start to gather overhead, drifting packs of dark gray, the sight of them in the sky akin to hell hounds sprinting across the horizon, viscous and angry, and some superstitious part of him know that it's a bad omen.

Still, Sasuke convinces himself that this time he'll stay- he'll stay for good and make it work and swallow down the anxiety that rises in his throat from time to time, just for her. Tone down his wanderlust, just for her. Always for her.

He's soaked by the time he reaches the hokage tower, simmering with barely concealed anger and on the verge of exploding. Rage had wiped remorse out like a nuclear blast on a battlefield, and Sasuke feels like as if he's burning- his body is on fire, dark chakra oozing out of his pores like water bursting through cracks in cement. Genin have better chakra control than this.

The other shinobi do well to stay off his path. His fist pounds on the office door and he tears it open, eyes zeroing in man behind the desk.

"Ah, Sasuke. I was wondering when you'd be back," Kakashi waves the other men out of the room. Outside, the sky rips open in a blaze of lightning.

"Where is she?" the words end up coming out as a snarl, and it takes everything he has to keep his sharingan spinning in crazy cartwheels. A sudden burst of pain explodes behind his left eye, blinding him, and he hisses, pushing the heel of his hand against it in an attempt to ease the agony. Kakashi watches him right himself before answering.

"On a mission." Simple. Cryptic. Sasuke wants to pull his hair out by the roots.

"Why?" It seems to Sasuke like as if that's the only thing he can ask these days. His arm begins to tremble. The pain in his eyes grow worse to the point where he can feel the blood vessels pounding in his face.

"Because I sent her."

The throbbing sets his molars to grind. He sucks in a sharp breath and lets his hands fall back to his sides, ignoring the red that stains his fingertips.

Kakashi let his eyes wander to them before setting his gaze up front again. "You should have Tsunade-sama check that for you."

Sasuke has half a mind to keep the sneer from curling his lips.

"I don't _need_ anyone to heal me," ignoring the sting to his temples, he turns on his feet and heads for the door. But what Kakashi says next roots him to spot, and the air trapped in his lungs

"You're burning her," eyes narrowed, Kakashi looks every big the feared and ruthless anbu he was rumoured to be, and Sasuke almost feels that glower penetrate him to the bone. "Next time you leave, I'll have you denounced and in prison for the rest of your miserable life."

Sasuke stiffens, his spine rigid, blood seeping out skin to stigma.

"You'll do well to remember that."

Closing his eyes, he envisions his home and finds himself in the rubble that started it all.

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><p>Review and tell me what you think.<p> 


	8. h

**Prompt: A new hope, by Broken Iris.**

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><p><strong>h.<strong>

Once, during one of his many travels to nowhere, he had stumbled upon a mass funeral; dozens of people in grievance, they flocked down the busted road carrying a multitude of caskets, some large and some so small it took all it had in him to stop the images of that day ten years ago from playing behind his lids like a film.

Still, he had watched them as they moved, heads turned down to the gravel below, eyes blank and hollow. The wooden caskets glowed in afternoon sun, traveling above a sea of whites and blacks and grays, and Sasuke watched as one of the mothers broke down in the middle of the road and began to wail, thin shoulders shuddering by the force of her cries. The others had seemed to ignore her and pressed forward, oblivious to the glaring sun and the smoke that blew with the wind.

He felt like that woman sometimes; surrounded by people who were always pressing forward, he often found himself left stagnant, laying lost and careless and just _there_ while the world carried on to rebuild itself from the broken shambles of the past. He feels like that now as he sits in front of their graves, shoulders down and deflated, feeling utterly blank and a mess of chaotic emotions at the same time. The tomb stones are cold as they have been for years now, casting dark shadows over tall grass, and suddenly he wants to scream, to pull his hair out and cry and bleed and watch the world burn down in flames so he can finally be in peace.

He scoffs, pushing the heel of his palm against his eyes. The green blades beneath him itch at his skin like needles. Above him, the clouds growl, masses of grays and blacks howling with the wind. The air feels charged, like as if the sky is winding up a dynamo ready for a lightning display.

Somewhere within the village, a stream of black smoke rises, its charcoal wisps dissolving into the atmosphere. Sasuke waits as he has been waiting for years now, waits till the sun floats past the horizon and gives way to darkness to reign the sky.

The landscape glows under the light of the full moon. He moves to pick himself off the ground and stares at the names engraved in stones as the clouds open up and soak him, wondering if he could bury all his secrets and his sins with the rest of them.

No sound except the loud pitter patter of the rain against the harsh brown ground. Sasuke closes his eyes and thinks of her, of spring mixed with clear skies and sprinkling seas and a warmth so unrelenting that it feels real on his fingertips and explodes in his mouth. He thinks of the smiles crinkling the corner of her eyes and the happiness swirling the ends of her lips, of her wafting scent of roses and everything that makes her so unbreakable in his mind.

Hair plastered to his face, Sasuke can't stop the desolation from slamming into him. He closes his eyes and sighs.

_I'm sorry._

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><p><strong>Review.<strong>


	9. i

**SAT is over and happy days are here again. Hallelujah.**

**Prompt: Breaking the habit, Linkin Park.**

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><p><strong>i.<strong>

Then he gets angry.

Rage, pure and undiluted, runs through his veins, charging his cells, and when he sees Naruto roaming carelessly through the streets, he looses it.

"You," the word cuts through his teeth, lips pulled up into a sneer, canines digging into gums.

There's a sudden pull of air, a second of breathlessness in his lungs and he's standing in the lush greens of their training ground, pale fingers digging into black fabric. Naruto watches him tentatively, pupils morphing to a slit, eyes glowing gold like the sun; his own sharingan spins crimson.

"Don't even think of blaming this one on me, bastard," Naruto's voice echoes in his cranium, and Sasuke, livid, tightens his hold.

Seething, the electricity flickers on his fingertips, snapping at his skin, and Sasuke plunges it straight for Naruto's chest. The clone disappears in a puff of smoke. He scoffs and turns to the treeline where the blonde stands on a high branch, arms folded on his torso, a smudge of orange in a mass of green.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Naruto stares at him, face devoid of any emotion.

"It wasn't important."

Sasuke feels the sudden carnal urge to throw his head back and bark out a laugh. His lips twitch down to a snarl.

"Don't fuck with me."

Sharingan swirling, he pulls the kusunagi out and pushes himself off the ground. The push of the air against his form propels him further, and he uses his momentum to crash into the tree where Naruto stands, using his sword to tear down the trunk. Splinters fly into his eyes and pepper his hair and Sasuke revels in the adrenaline that rushes through his veins like alcohol, inducing him in its stupor, the kind of high that can only be achieved by bruising his knuckles and surveying a battle field. And it helps him forget; all the little details fly out his mind till everything narrows down to a single slit, and as he pulls his sword out of the wood, he understands what he is, what he will always be: a killer, a soldier. No metaphors, no sugarcoatings, just him and what his hands have been trained to do since day one. It's the truth he spent years traveling the world finding, the liberation and revelation he searched for.

Up ahead, Naruto lands on his feet like the fox he is, eyes wild and hair in a frenzy, fingers curling into fists.

"Don't be an idiot, Sasuke."

A silent heartbeat follows. They stare at each other. Then he flies.

Each blow they trade is pronounced with chakra, the power behind every kick enough to blow leaves off the trees.

Naruto parries his strikes with his kunais; silver on silver, the metals clink on impact, clattering to the ground as they fly through the surrounding forests. The smell of acrid smoke burns in his lungs, scalding his throat and tongue when he lets the flame erupt from his mouth. The fingers that direct the katon glow a bright red, pulsing with the rhythm of his irregular heart beat.

"I'm done," his voice sounds too gruff even to his own ears, concealing the whirl of emotions swirling in his belly, "I've had enough."

Naruto's fist colliding with his face comes as a surprise, and Sasuke chokes on the blood that clogs his throat.

"You've had enough? _YOU_?" Hands fisted in the collar of his shirt, Naruto shakes the breath out of him. "What about her? What about all the times you pissed off to God knows where for months without a word? What about all the years you went on a stupid rampage and she still stayed here, hoping you'd get hit on the head and g_row some fucking common sense_?"

Sasuke blinks at the fangs that grow out of Naruto's gums, the enamel vibrating with his growls. His lips pull down to a grimace at the memories that flood him.

"What about all the years you wasted and she was still there in your corner, loyal to a fault?

What about," Naruto's voice lowers to a murmur, punctuated with guilt and remorse, "What about the time we both abandoned her and she had to grow up alone?"

Sasuke knows he's had enough.

He shrugs out of the blonde's hold and pushes his hand again his mouth to wipe the blood. Naruto let's his hands fall by his sides and silence floods the battered training ground. Up above, the sun glows to a cool red, casting Konoha in its dying shadows as birds fly back to their nests, their wings leaving track marks in the clouds. Sasuke fists his hands and let's it pass like he always has.

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><p><strong>I feel like a prisoner of war who's been released after years of imprisonment. The freedom is liberating.<strong>

**Thank you ever one who has read, liked and reviewed HOME. I'm touched that people like this story so much.**

**As always, tell me what you guys think. Reviews are good for the writer's soul.**


	10. j

**New chapter out. It's like all those ideas are bursting to come out and I can't sleep till I put something on again. **

**Prompt: Waiting for the end, by Linkin Park.**

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><p><strong>j.<strong>

The heavens rip open with a silence that contradicts the incessant ringing in his ears, echoing in a way that's constant to the earth and its orbit. Sasuke thinks he's sick of the rain, tired of watching it fall and patter on the dry ground to fill up tea-coloured puddles the way memory bombs still, tea-coloured minds; the sound reminds him of damp underground trenches and journeys through the fog, of an age and memory he wants to burn out like the black flame that burns in those images behind his lids.

It had rained the day he had entered a sealed up Uchiha compound, tracing his steps on the cobble stone pathways with a reverie that rivaled that of the dead. It had rained the day Itachi had died, a rueful smile twisted on his lips as the blood seeped out of him and left him dry- Sasuke has had bad memories linked with the rain, and yet the gray clouds follow him like faithful strays.

The kyuubi's chakra dies down like muted sunlight before a storm, and as Naruto blinks back to his blue eyes, Sasuke thinks that maybe he's been wrong of him being the indestructible one out of the four of them. He thinks of his brothers words and of the war they had fought to the end, burning out their limbs to ash and blood and ancestry; of standing silent in crowds of moving people who never looked back to the rubble of the past, necks bent to facilitate their views of the ground because it hurt too much to see the horizon. Sasuke thinks of the burst of colour in his mind and the spark of spring in his mouth, of the memory of rain in his lungs and the scent of wet grass in his nose and how it never really changes no matter where you are. He thinks maybe its time to change the flow of history and be the one to bring her back home this time.

"Where did she go to?" The words float past his lips in a cloud of white mist, the rainwater mixing with the sound of his voice. He sees Naruto smile.

"Hell if I know. Hell if I ever knew," he says, voice tinted with a self resigned sadness that reflects his guilt. But then he looks at him and Sasuke knows there's something that binds them, an intangible string that beats and hums and stretches taut but never breaks.

The rain accompanies the spell of silence that follows.

Then: "Kakashi-sensie is gonna be so mad when he hears of this," the blonde besides him groans, holding his head in his hands as they survey the remains of the broken training ground. "He's going to kill us."

"You," Sasuke corrects, pushing the kusunagi back in its sheath, "He's going to kill you."

Naruto sputters.

"Whaa- bastard, don't abandon me. This is your fault too! Wait, don't walk walk away from me, Sasuke. _SASUKE_!"

The smirk that pulls on his lips is the last thing Naruto sees before he transports himself to the Hokage tower.

_"YOU ASSHOLE!"_

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><p><strong>A dash of well-deserved humor at the end. <strong>

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